How John Lennon's confessional song became the title for a silly James Bond spoof is still inexplicable. The funny thing is, it works both ways-as a young man's personal statement about learning to open up to others, and as the frantic theme for an exotic espionage chase comedy starring those loveable mop-tops (this time in COLOUR). Like A Hard Day's Night, only the first "side" of this album actually contains songs from the movie-the biggest hits being the eponymous cry for assistance and "Ticket to Ride". But part two has a few nice tunes as well, like "It's Only Love", "I've Just Seen a Face" and a little ditty called "Yesterday". And it's always fun when they do an all-out screamer like "Dizzy Miss Lizzy", which sounds like John's raucous answer to Paul's "Kansas City / Hey, Hey, Hey, Hey" vocal on Beatles for Sale. -Jim Emerson.

Lionel's decision to release a second hits compilation within a decade may have had something to do with the fact that sales of the first were overshadowed by a spousal abuse charge; unsurprisingly then, there isn't too much to distinguish this from the other one. Certain critics have commended Lionel for having spurned the whims of fashion and persisted with sentimental love songs like "Say You Say Me" and "Penny Lover", whatever the weather, and, listening to the tacky 1980s synths of the more upbeat "Running With The Night", it's hard to disagree. Lionel's obviously at his most comfortable with the power ballad-so much so that he has no idea when to exercise a little restraint. For all its baggage-the sickly video with that blind girl and its terrible lyrics-there's the chord structure to a good Charles Aznavour song trying to get out of "Hello", but it's drowning in syrup. Perhaps it's time for a reunion of the old band: the inclusion of "Sail On", "Three Times A Lady" and "Easy" (all Commodores songs) suggests as much. -Peter Paphides.

Please note that this album comes in two alternative sleeves, which will be randomly assigned. Greatest Hits chronicles the remarkable journey of Mr Robert Williams, from being the "fat dancer from Take That" (c. Noel Gallagher) to the multi-million pound jewel in EMI's crown. Assembled in chronological order, all the hits are here, except for his initial solo outing "Freedom", and it's interesting to see how his sound evolves from wannabe Britpop buffoon on the sub-Oasis pubrock of "Old Before I Die" to the subtle captivating melodies of "Feel" and "Come Undone". There are so many great tracks that it's impossible to list them all, but highlights have to be the barnstorming "Let Me Entertain You", the bouncy, floor-filling "Rock DJ" and the song that madeth the man, "Angels". The two latest additions to his canon-"Radio" and "Misunderstood" clearly have one eye on the past, the other on the future - with the latter an instant classic Robbie ballad from the Bridget Jones 2 soundtrack and the former a foray into the world of electro pop that sounds like a warped Human League track from the 1980s. This has to be Robbie's forte, his ability to make great pop records that always sound fresh and full of energy. Every home should have a copy of this album, and chances are, by the end of 2004, most of them will. - Melanie Wilkin.

Their first-ever album, Please Please Me is raw and rough and still very rock & roll. Having already scored two hits when this appeared, Lennon and McCartney were only just beginning to flex their writing muscles and so relied heavily on the cover material to see them through. Their insecurity about their own abilities seems curious in hindsight since they'd pulled the title song and "I Saw Her Standing There" (with thanks to Little Richard) out of their hats. But they were an unknown quantity, still to launch a million bands and take pop music to places it had never dreamed off. A small step for four men, a giant leap for music. -Chris Nickson.

Ghosts I-IV, the new album from Nine Inch Nails, sees the legendary rockers explore some serious new sonic territory. Comprised of almost two hours of music composed and recorded over a ten-week period, Ghosts I-IV boasts 36 tracks described by Trent Reznor as a "soundtrack for daydreams". That's perhaps true-especially if your daydreams are particularly dark and surreally beautiful. Swelling synths, infectious (and often maudlin) piano melodies, baleful drones and glitchy textures are the unorthodox instruments employed here rather than the standard guitars, drums and stadium-fuelled braggadocio. The immediate impression is more post-rock than indie rock, with sincere nods to avant practitioners like Sigur Ros and Radiohead. But contributions from the likes of Adrian Belew (King Crimson) ensure the mystical ambience is punctuated with blasts of electric psychedelia, and the NIN sound remains somehow recognizable beneath the surface. A hugely successful and beautifully otherworldly trip to outer musical realms. -Danny McKenna.

Scotland's Texas were in danger of becoming one-hit wonders following their failure to capitalise on their Top Ten debut single-1989's "I Don't Want A Lover"-through the early Nineties. Faced with a career crisis, Sharleen Spiteri and writing partner Johnny McElhone began tinkering with their sound and employing modern technology. Cue 1996's massively successful White On Blonde album and a rush of hit songs. "I Don't Want A Lover", with its tired slide riff hasn't worn well, nor have the other pre-watershed songs here like "Everyday Now", "So Called Friend" and "Prayer For You". Nevertheless there are a dozen prime examples of stylised, updated Motown ("Say What You Want", "Black Eyed Boy", "When We Are Together") showcasing the band's song-writing rebirth. Add a pair of fresh numbers co-written with Dallas Austin (the sweet shuffle of "In Demand") and Greg Alexander (the lipglossed "Inner Smile") and The Greatest Hits becomes a weighty pop collection. -Mike Pattenden.

The last of the truly classic first four Steely Dan albums, the 1975 Katy Lied also sounds like the best. While retaining a solid rock foundation, the music finds Walter Becker and Donald Fagen engaging their jazz influences more successfully than ever; Fagen's piano fills alone are some of the most impressive music laid to tape in the 1970s. The songs, too, rate with the team's very best, whether coolly anticipating global financial collapse ("Black Friday"), celebrating the legacy of a mob-hit victim ("Daddy Don't Live in That New York City No More"), or letting the Dan's guard down with a pained three-minute survey of life on Earth ("Any World [That I'm Welcome To]"). -Rickey Wright.

After My Bloody Valentine had undergone their massive metamorphosis from twee indie-poppers to guitar noiseniks on 1988's Isn't Anything, their eagerly anticipated follow-up was a long time coming. Rumours abounded of massive studio bills, and when the album finally arrived, it listed 18 engineering credits. At times, Loveless is 90 per cent pure studio overmatter-but that doesn't matter. Band leader Kevin Shield's element was the guitar overdub, creating an intoxicating headrush of varispeed, warped, electro-static effects. "To Here Knows When" remains unmatched as an experiment in just how much sonic dissonance a simple pop melody can bear, while Bilinda Butcher sings drowsily as if concussed by the sweet noise. Loveless isn't a case of form over content-the lyrical subject matter of dazed infatuation is perfectly illustrated by the snowblind guitar sound. After this, MBVmoved to Island and remained notoriously unproductive for years, perhaps unsure how to top this. -David Stubbs.

Oasis have been accused of losing it and recovering it more times than any sane mind should rightfully remember, but whatever trajectory their controversial discography takes from here, Don't Believe The Truth should come out looking like a rather proud success. Partly, it's because Liam and Noel sound on such rude form: the younger, fronting with some of the old menace and successfully channelling his rather simplistic songwriting impulses on the lightly trippy, shaker-ridden "Guess God Thinks I'm Abel"; the elder playing some of his more devious tricks, imagining The Beatles' Revolver played by a Mariachi band on "The Importance Of Being Idle", and doffing a cap to late-period Velvet Underground on "Mucky Fingers". Partly, though, it's because Oasis sound like they're functioning less like a not-so-benevolent dictatorship and more like a real band again. With only five songs written by Noel, contributions from Liam, guitarist Gem Archer and bassist Andy Bell have space to spread their wings a little: in particular, Bell's "Turn Up The Sun" - a gargantuan opener that sees Liam deliver one of his best opening lines to date ("I carry the madness/ Everywhere I go") - proves mighty testament to Oasis' new democratic bent. -Louis Pattison.

There's a clenched fist grasping a heart-shaped hand grenade on the cover of American Idiot, a militant mural presumably designed to inform us that Californian punk-pop vets Green Day love America but hate what's becoming of it. Inferences aside, you could argue that American Idiot is a suspect device-a punk concept album/rock opera primed to blow up in the faces of the ruling right-wing American classes but which could just as easily leave splattered egg on the faces of the insurrectionists. The concept is fuzzy (telly-brainwashed teenage runaway falls in with the wrong crowd, something or other happens with drugs, rock and a character called "Whatsername") and the political protestations against the metaphorical Arrnies and Dubyas are mere slapstick custard pies compared with the Dead Kennedys' CIA-bothering debunking of Reaganomics. However, something about American Idiot both excites and rings true whilst simultaneously beggaring belief. Spanning influences from The Who's Tommy to Husker Du's Zen Arcade, American Idiot has the listener living in cliff-hanging fear of an unexpected Richie Blackmore guitar solo or Tarkus-style ELP exposition but actually never strays from Buzzcockian melodiousness or phlegm-drenched rifferama even when things get ridiculous. "Homecoming", for example, is probably the best amalgamation of The Clash, Pink Floyd's The Wall, Millwall football supporters terrace chants, Deep Purple, The Levellers, Bob Mould, UK Subs, Rush, Pete Townsend and The Tubes you'll ever hear. American Idiot could be brave or it could be stupid, but it really can't be ignored. -Kevin Maidment.

Released in 1969 to an almost total lack of critical acclaim or consumer interest, the Velvet Underground's third album may well be the finest record of the band's career. Without the sonic terrorism of The Velvet Underground & Nico and White Light/White Heat or the ill-conceived commercial concessions that marred Loaded, the album's songs are free to stand on their own merit. And stand they do: "What Goes On" and "Beginning to See the Light" may be the finest flat-out rockers in the band's catalogue, while "Pale Blue Eyes", "Jesus", and "Candy Says" are some of the most delicately gorgeous songs Lou Reed has ever penned. There's no evidence here of any of the psychedelic effects and hippie sloganeering that marked most late-1960s rock releases, which is probably why the record still holds up today. -Dan Epstein.

At this stage in a band's career a Mojo front cover would seem more likely than actually getting their old mojo back. And at 14 albums young, REM's longevity had been taken as a byword for pale compliance-in spite of a melodic obedience, last album Around the Sun lacked the emotional vigour of their key works and was presumed by many to be no more than a footnote in their decline. Here then is where they break all the rules. Accelerate is exceptionally loyal to its title and marks a hefty return to their Document-era heyday, when their Byrdsian post-punk was beefed up to suit the arenas they were then beginning to fill. There's even a new "end of the world" song to back up that assertion-the excitable Stooges/B52s love-in "I'm Gonna DJ" ("Death is pretty final/I'm collecting vinyl/I'm gonna DJ at the end of the world!"). Michael Stipe's voice splinters scattered emotional punctuation, Mike Mills is as ever REM's secret weapon, drilling out bass-lines like rapid CPR and achieving more with a single backing vocal than many lead singers manage over a whole album, while Peter Buck deals out memorable guitar twists a-go-go evoking amongst others The Who, The Small Faces and Neil Young. To summon a cliché, this really does sound like a band-and a band half their age at that-playing live in a room, packed full of all the fire and nuances needed to feel at home in a club or the stadiums they now more regularly inhabit. -James Berry.

Scanning the tracklisting of Blur's greatest hits album it's hard not to reach the conclusion that the band are a little embarrassed by their earlier and even mid-career work. Opening with the chart one-two of "Beetlebum" and "Song 2" (from their eponymous creative watershed album of 1997) rather than the baggy groove of debut single "She's So High", the band's desire to accentuate their more recent efforts is obvious. Running order aside, it's hard to fault the 18 tracks which chart the life and times of one of the country's smartest, most inventive bands. From the tuxedoed ballad "The Universal", through cartoon Britpoppery of numbers like "Parklife" and "Country House" to the freshly recorded indie-isms of single "Music Is My Radar", their searching intelligence, deft hooks and willingness to sweep the board are never less than admirable. -Mike Pattenden.

Some singer/songwriters (think Paul Westerberg and Elliott Smith) develop their world-weariness through the unforgiving trials of passing years and the heart-breaking grind of the music business. Others (Van Morrison, Neil Young) seem to have sprung from out of nowhere with the fully formed soul of a life well-lived. Ray LaMontagne belongs with the latter. On this, his debut, LaMontagne has crafted a handful of quietly devastating meditations on life and love-and delivered them with a raspy vocal all his own. The simple, mournful lyrics of "Burn," "Shelter" and the title track recall a Hank Williams ballad, and the reserved production by alt-country/americana genius Ethan Johns (the Jayhawks, Ryan Adams, Kings of Leon) make this a great disc for smoky Saturday nights, and rainy Sunday mornings. -Ben Heege.

A hit single can be a bit of a mixed blessing for new bands, especially if said song gets you firmly lumped into the "novelty band" category. Such was the case with Weezer, whose runaway hit "Buddy Holly" touched a global nerve upon its release, then got on everyone's nerves after months of radio saturation. However, it did ensure that they sold millions of copies of their self-titled debut. Which is why it's so strange that their second album, Pinkerton, was soundly ignored. Perhaps it was down to that album's wilfully non-commercial first single, "El Scorcho", which crashed and burned out of the charts at a rate of speed usually reserved for the likes of Gary Barlow. Whatever the reason, Pinkerton soon disappeared without a trace, which is a shame because it's actually a great album. Whereas Weezer had the band revelling in their geek rock image, Pinkerton saw singer / songwriter Rivers Cuomo maturing as a lyricist: From opening track "Tired Of Sex", which rants about the frustrating easiness of groupies, to the New Wave pop of "Getchoo", to the sheer, unadulterated epic genius of "The Good Life", the songs are much more diverse than the Pixies-influenced bouncey grunge of their debut. With the closing solo acoustic lament of "Butterfly", Rivers Cuomo hints at his mastery of the pop song as an art form, suggesting great things from this reformed geek in the future. -Robert Burrow.

The world can't get enough of Madonna, and with CD/DVD sets like The Confessions Tour dropping regularly, it's little wonder why. As a thrower of fantasy dance parties, she is peerless. As a physical role model for the 40-ish women who grew up on her music, she rules. And as an arbiter of what's going to sound shockingly original in any given decade-well, duh. The Confessions Tour rounds up songs from way back-"Ray of Light" and "La Isla Bonita" make the DVD, and "Lucky Star" and "Like a Virgin" are on the CD as well as the DVD-but this concert, filmed in 2006 at Wembley Arena, aims its sturdiest spotlight on Confessions on a Dance Floor, Madge's 2005 disco disc. You could argue, then, that unless you're in it for the sheer DVD spectacle (and what a spectacle it is), there's no sense in owning this package. Only you wouldn't be right. Because as any on-the-ball Madonna fan knows, what she's doing musically is telling a story-you may already know the characters, but that doesn't mean she hasn't completely reworked the plot. To that end, "I Love New York" gets its rock on, "Let It Will Be" has a musical temper tantrum, and "Hung Up" goes for the drama queen award. You've heard these songs before, but you've never heard them quite like this, to borrow a bad informercial phrase. [+]